


Lucky

by allytonobody



Category: Niche (Video Game)
Genre: Child Death Mention, Gen, Rated T for the death mention and also one bad word, parental abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 12:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allytonobody/pseuds/allytonobody
Summary: Born on the night of the worst storm the island has ever seen, Lucky, a rogue-born child, believes she'll never fit in with the rest of the tribe. Even her aunt, the alpha, doesn't truly seem to care for her. Then, while picking berries one day, she hears a shout. Upon going to investigate, she finds something that will change her life forever.





	Lucky

            She was born during the worst storm the island had ever seen. Heavy rain had turned the soft grassland into a swamp of mud and washed away nests. Harsh winds tore through the branches of the island’s lone nut tree, tearing off twigs and leaves and flinging them into the angry, roiling ocean. Even the berry bushes the tribe depended on for food were ripped from the ground by the storm, or else drowned in mud, rendering the precious fruit they held ruined and inedible.

            Her first memory was of chaos: shrieks and the howling of the wind, then of cold, as her mother fled into the night, never to be seen again. Later, they would call her lucky for the storm. Lucky for the same disaster that had destroyed the tribe’s home and left them starving for a month. Lucky, because the furious sky, split by thunder, kept the bluebirds away. Kept them from stealing unattended cubs. It was lucky for her, they said, and a curse for the rest of the tribe.

            _Rogue-born,_ they mumbled under their breath as she limped past, holding her one useless paw close to her yellow fur. _Her mother fled in shame the night she was born. A good thing too. If I was alpha, I would have banished them both._

            She was never given a name, but given the choice between what her tribe-mates called her: ‘Rogue-born,’ ‘Curse,’ or ‘Lucky,’ she preferred the latter. If her mother had not seen fit to give her a name before abandoning her in the storm, she would choose her own name. She liked Lucky, even if it didn’t really fit. Nothing else about her fit either, from her tiny, shriveled right paw to her over-large bottom jaw that jutted out from her face and made it difficult to crack open nuts, or even eat berries like her tribemates. She’d been mocked more than once for the pink juices that dribbled down into her fur when she tried to chew them between her asymmetrical jaws.

            Mocked, yes, but not banished. She supposed she _was_ lucky for that. The tribe’s alpha was her mother’s sister, and looked on her with pity, at worst. There was no love between them, but there wasn’t hate either, and as far as she was concerned, that was as good as things would ever be between her and another creature.

            Stumbling to one of the small pools near the south of the island, she bent to drink from the cool, fresh water, and tried not to flinch away from her reflection. One huge, dark eye watched her from the pool, while the other, small and misshapen, gazed off in a different direction. She’d been blind out of that one from birth. She supposed that was for the best, since it wouldn’t do her much good to be looking two different places at once anyhow. She lapped at the pool, savoring the feel of the cold water on her parched tongue. She’d been out at the edges of the territory since dawn, teaching herself to pick berries so that she could contribute to the tribe, even with her unfortunate genetics _._

            Pulling back from the water, she took one last look at herself. If she angled her body just so, and ignored her misshapen face and ears, she could almost pretend she was just like any other creature in the tribe. Her fur was neat and clean, yellow, like the alpha’s, but with none of the distinctive spots her family usually bore. Her left paw was strong and nimble. She could pick berries with ease, as she’d discovered that morning, though only a few at a time. Her hind legs were strong and allowed her to get around the island quickly enough, even on three legs. Her tail was fluffy and thickly furred, nothing wrong there, either. She didn’t even mind her deformed paw, much. It was just her face. A face not even a mother could love, as it turned out.

            A stab of self-pity and anger at the unfairness of it all made her rear back and splash at the surface of the pool. Her reflection warped as the water rippled from the point where her paw hit the water, but in the end, the surface calmed, and everything was as it always was again. There was nothing she could do to change things. She’d always be ugly, and she’d always be an outcast. She’d always be the most hated creature in the tribe.

            “Niece.”

            She jumped back from the water, startled, and looked up to see the alpha approach her from the grass.

“What are you doing?”

            “Drinking water,” she said, her fur hot with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant for anyone to see her lash out in frustration the way she had.

            The corners of the alpha’s mouth turned up in amusement. “Most of us drink with our mouths, not our paws.”

            Lucky looked away. “I _was_ getting a drink,” she said defensively, “and then I saw my reflection. I hate seeing my reflection.”

            Her aunt frowned. “Oh?”

            Lucky scowled. “I’m ugly. I should’ve never been born.”

            “What makes you say that?” asked the alpha, walking on four perfect paws to sit beside her.

            “Everyone else says it. Everyone hates me. You should have banished me when I was born. Maybe a bluebird would have got me, and everything would be fine then.” She turned to look at her aunt, angry gaze daring the older female to challenge what she had said.

            Her aunt’s cool, brown eyes were unreadable, as was the expression on her short, delicate snout. “The right thing to do,” he aunt says, “is not always what the majority agrees upon, is it? That is why we have an alpha, is it not? To have the final say in matters the majority does not understand.”

            Lucky frowned, wondering where her aunt was going with this. “I guess.”

            “Yes, that is one reason we have an alpha, but it is not necessarily the most important,” said her aunt. “Do you know what the most important reason is?”

            Somehow, Lucky felt like this was a trick question. She thought about it, looking down at the ground and rolling a tiny pebble over with her paw. Finally, she shook her head.

            “The most important job of an alpha is to keep the tribe safe.”

            Lucky looked at her incredulously. “How am I supposed to keep the tribe safe? I don’t have horns, or any claws, or even a normal face. If anything, I make everybody less safe, because they’re all scared of me!”

            Her aunt stared at her, as though she was missing something obvious. After several long seconds, she got to her paws. “If that is what you think,” she said, “then I cannot stop you, but keep what I have said today in mind.” She walked away without another word.

            Lucky kept frowning. She wished her aunt would speak more directly for once. She thought sarcastically that maybe that was another role of the alpha: to be cryptic and never tell anyone what they actually meant.

            She glanced back at the pool, studying the misshapen line of her jaw, her uneven ears, and the shriveled little paw that hung half-limply at her side. How did protecting _her_ help keep the tribe safe? What would she ever do for the sake of the tribe? Sure, she could collect berries, but any creature could do that. It couldn’t be worth keeping something as ugly as her around. She’d never contribute to the growth of the tribe either. Even if she wanted cubs, who would ever love her?

            The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that her aunt was just trying to make her feel better, for some reason. She supposed it was with kind intentions, but it only made her realize all the more how worthless she really was. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt.

            It wouldn’t do her any good to dwell on things. Perhaps she could find some berry bushes on the other side of the island that hadn’t been picked clean. She had only taken a single step when a sharp scream split the air. Her head whipped in the direction of the sound, and she took off running. She wasn’t the fastest creature, not like those with paws meant for running, but she was close. If there was trouble, maybe she’d be able to help.

            She expected to see a huge carnivore threatening a nest, or a bluebird swooping down from the sky, trying to carry off one of their children when the adults weren’t looking. Instead, she found her tribemate, Anarera, huddled in a nest over a small, limp form. The golden-brown female was shaking, and couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the small creature in front of her. At first, Lucky thought it was a stagmole, and wondered what all the fuss was about. Then she saw a small, clawed paw reach into the air, and the tiny creature turned its muzzle towards her.

            She recoiled in horror.

            Anarera rose up on shaking legs and backed away from the nest, mumbling something so quietly that Lucky could not hear her. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Anarera’s mate, Takirkir, and two of their other tribemates burst through the tall grass.

            “What’s wrong?” Takirkir asked, snarling and looking around for some threat. When his eyes landed on Lucky, he bared his teeth and held up one huge claw.

            Her good eye widened. “I didn’t do anything!” she exclaimed. She knew that Takirkir had been on edge, especially defensive since a carnivore had threatened their camp a few months back, just after he found out that his mate was pregnant, but she hadn’t expected the strong, clawed male to threaten her.

            “Takirkir,” Anarera said, her voice shaking. He turned his furious gaze from Lucky and bounded to his mate’s side.

            “What is it?” he asked, “are you hurt?”

            She shook her head, and pointed, dazed, to the nest.

            His eyes followed the direction her paw pointed, until his gaze fell upon the small, squirming bundle of fur in the nest. Warily, he approached it, but when it turned its head to face him, he recoiled with a startled hiss. “What _is_ that thing?” he growled, making a sign with his paw of warding against evil.

            Anarera spoke quietly. “It’s our son.”

            “That?”  Takirkir’s face twisted into an expression of horror. “It can’t be. This is impossible!”

            Anarera flattened herself against the grass, her eyes wide and horrified.

            “It has to be some sort of omen,” whispered one of the creatures who had accompanied Takirkir into the clearing, a suspicious elderly female named Issire.

            “What could it mean?” wondered another.

            Takirkir was still staring, stunned, at the squirming abomination in the nest. “That is no son of ours. Come, Anarera. We’ll have nothing to do with it.” He draped his tail over his startled mate’s shoulders and led her away from the nest. Neither of them looked back as they pushed their way through the tall green fronds, back towards the center of the island.

            “Such a shame,” said Issire.

            “We should inform the alpha,” the other creature said, “she’ll know what to do with it.”

            “Best to let the poor thing die now,” Issire replied, walking away into the grass.

            Lucky couldn’t believe what she was hearing, or what she’d seen. Anarera, usually so caring with the children born into the tribe, had left her own son alone in the nest, unguarded from danger. She and Takirkir had abandoned their son, and now the others would leave the little thing to fend for itself? A newborn, its eyes were still shut tightly against the light of the world, and it was already given up for dead.

            She started toward the tiny creature, then hesitated as it turned its muzzle towards her again. Its snout was long and thin, thinner than any normal creature’s, and tiny, jagged teeth were already jutting from its jaw like bits of sharp shell. It was hideous. It was horrifying.

            “He’s like me,” she mumbled, “maybe it _is_ better that he dies now.” In the back of her mind, she was numbly horrified at what she had just said, but thinking back on her life, she often wondered if it wouldn’t have been better for her to get swept into the ocean to drown as a cub. No one wanted her around. No one loved her. When the tribe all got together, she had to stand in the grasses or the shadows to avoid mockery. She couldn’t visit any of the new cubs that were born. They all began to cry in terror when they saw her face. Was that really a fate she would ever wish upon another creature?

            Just then she heard a familiar, harsh cry from above. Startled, she pressed her body low to the ground as a shadow swooped by overhead. Sunlight glinted off bright blue feathers and sharp, deadly talons.

            “Bluebird,” she yelped, remembering several months back, when one of the tribe’s females had left her child unattended, just for an instant, and a moment later, it was gone. She still remembered the poor thing’s tiny cries as it was carried away into the sky. She was too old now to be carried away by one of those things. Her body was strong and heavy, and the weight of her would send it into the ocean, but the thought of the creature still sent a stab of terror through her heart.

            It screeched again, and swept down this time, the tips of its feathers rustling the grass overhead. With horror, she realized that it had spotted the small, squirming bundle of fur in the nest. Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Why hadn’t anyone come running to chase it away?

            She watched it cut a slow arc through the blue sky, and then drop down towards the baby. Without even thinking, she dove towards the nest, positioning herself between the raptor and the defenseless infant. Her fur fluffed up to twice its normal size and as the creature drew closer, she let out a furious, feral snarl.

            The bird gave a startled squawk. Changing the angle of its wings and tail, it made a wide arc around Lucky before flapping its wings furiously to gain altitude, and vanishing over the horizon. She heard a distant caw, and then nothing. It was gone.

            Sighing with relief, she let her fur lie flat. The thing was gone. It wasn’t a threat anymore. She was safe.

            Then, she felt something nudge her front leg.

            “Good gods!” she leapt out of the nest, tripping over a knot of grasses and falling directly on her face. Whining, she sat up, rubbing at her nose with her paw. Glancing back at the nest, she saw the deformed snout of the infant creature poking up over the weaved fronds. The poor little thing still had not opened its eyes, and was likely seeking out of the warmth of its mother. Pity stabbed at her heart. She remembered that feeling well.

            Forcing herself not to look away from the ugly little thing, she got back to her paws and walked over to the nest.

            Sensing the approach of another of its kind, the little thing whimpered and pawed at the edge of the nest. Lucky shuddered as she counted four razor-sharp claws on the baby’s left paw. Its right paw was the flat, runner’s leg of its mother. No, not its. Anarera had said ‘son.’ He was a boy, so Lucky would think of him as ‘he.’

            “Hello, little one,” she forced herself to say, though her voice wavered as the baby gnashed his shell-sharp teeth.

            The baby whined again, seemingly trying to climb out of the nest and crawl towards her voice. She reached her good paw into the nest warily and patted his tiny head. She half-expected him to sink his teeth into her one good paw, but instead, he nuzzled her with his tiny nose, sniffing, maybe memorizing her scent.

            “You’re safe now,” Lucky said, though she wasn’t sure how much the baby understood. He whimpered again.

            She heard the crunching of twigs and rustling of grasses that meant someone was approaching. Instinctively, she put herself between the nest and the grass, in case another threat appeared. Instead, the alpha pushed her way through the grasses, followed by Issire.

            “There’s the little monster,” Issire croaked, pointing at the helpless infant. Lucky couldn’t help the way her upper lip curled back over her teeth. That wasn’t fair! This little baby had never done anything to anyone! They had all run off, leaving him to almost be eaten! If anything, Issire and the others were the monsters!

            The alpha studied the little male, flinching slightly as he turned his long, fanged muzzle towards her. Then, she noticed Lucky.

            “Niece,” she said, seeming surprised.

            “Aunt Merare,” Lucky replied, bowing her head in respect to the alpha who had shown her mercy.

            “What are you doing here?” the alpha asked, tipping her head curiously.

            Lucky glanced down at the baby. “Someone had to protect him.” She said, petting his small head again with her good paw. His fur was baby-soft. He was clearly no monster.

            “Would it not be kinder to have let the bluebird carry him away?” her aunt asked.

            She bared her teeth in an instant, feeling her fur start to stand on end. Surely her aunt could not mean something so cruel! But when she looked back at the alpha, her face was not accusatory or angry, merely calm, with a hint of curiosity.  

            “He’s just a baby,” she said defensively, wrapping her paw around the tiny thing and pulling him closed to her. She felt him nestle into her fur.

            “So were you,” her aunt pointed out. “But I should have left you to get carried off by the bluebird, right? Isn’t that what you told me earlier today?”

            Lucky frowned. Now her aunt was using her words against her. Did she really want to leave this defenseless infant to die in the wild? Even if he was ugly, like her. “He deserves to have a chance to live,” she argued.

            “And you didn’t?” her aunt asked patiently.

            Lucky felt frustration prickling at her fur like ants. “This isn’t about me!”

            “Isn’t it?”

            Lucky flopped down on her paws, sulking. She knew she was acting like a child, but her aunt was being entirely unfair! Just because she said something about herself, didn’t mean it applied to this helpless baby. But then, did that really make sense? She had said that she should have been left to die because everyone hated her, but they would hate him too. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to say that the baby should be left to the predators, or to starve. He deserved a chance to see the good things in life.

            Even though she was shunned by most of her tribe, life on the island was not all bad. Often, it was peaceful, if lonely due to her deformities. If she had died on the stormy night she was born, she never would have gotten to taste the sweetness of sun-ripened berries, or hear the gentle waves of the ocean lapping over the shore. She never would have seen the beauty of a rainbow in the sky or smell the fresh scent of grasses after the island was washed clean by rain.

            And he wouldn’t be alone, like she was. Even with his strange, narrow snout, she knew that she would never hate him. He would never be shunned by the whole tribe, because she would care for him, and she was part of the tribe too! Even as a newborn, he was a part of the tribe as well.

            Her aunt’s words from earlier in the day returned to her. “The most important job of an alpha,” she echoed, “is to keep the tribe safe. He’s part of the tribe too. It’s your job to protect him, not to cast him out!”

            Finally, her aunt smiled. “So, you finally understand.”

            “What?” Issire exclaimed. “We’re just going to let this creature stay in our tribe? Grow up among my grandchildren, like he was one of us?”

            “He is one of us,” the alpha reminded her sternly, her tail raised in a challenge.

            “Takirkir and Anarera will never raise this thing. You heard them, it is no child of theirs!” the old female growled.

            “Then I shall take him,” the alpha replied calmly, leaving the elder’s jaw hanging open in shock. “You know that I have no children of my own. He will be my son, and just as much a part of the tribe as any of the others.”

            Lucky, too, felt her jaw go slack. The alpha? Raising a hideous child like this? It was unheard of!

            “But-” Issire tried to protest.

            Lucky’s aunt growled. “Are you challenging me?”

            Issire flattened herself to the ground in a gesture of submission. “No, alpha. Of course not.”

            The alpha nodded, holding herself tall and proud. “Good. Send word to the others. I will bring the child back to camp.”

            Issire nodded, her eyes wide, and crashed through the tall grasses in her haste to get away from the clearing. Lucky stared after her, still not fully believing the words her aunt had said.

            “Did you really mean that?”

            “Of course,” her aunt replied with a nod. “While he is not my son in blood, I shall raise him as my own.”

            “But, he’s so-” Lucky broke off, firstly because it was not her place to challenge the alpha, but secondly, because she could think of no true reason why this baby was any less worthy of the alpha’s attention that any other member of the tribe. After all, he was one of them. She was one of them too. Suddenly, she felt angry.

            “Why did you never look after me like this?” she asked, though she felt it was selfish to do so. “You let them mock me, exclude me, your own niece! You never stood up for me!”

            Her aunt looked sad then, old beyond her years, and there was something else there that Lucky could not place. A moment later, she realized that it was shame. It was startling and unfamiliar to see on the features of one who was usually so sure about herself.

            “I was young when you were born, newly appointed to alpha,” her aunt said, her tail drooping. “I was so worried about what others would think that I did not think of what you deserved. I even disliked you, at first. I thought that my sister had brought shame to the tribe, in mating with a rogue.”

            Although Lucky had always suspected the words to be true, hearing them out loud hurt worse than the sting of the insects that lurked in the marshy parts of the island. Her aunt _had_ hated her, just like everyone else.

            “But I was wrong,” her aunt continued, her voice cracking. Those three words: ‘I was wrong’ were ones Lucky never expected to hear come out of the alpha’s mouth, but now she had said them. “I was wrong to treat you that way. You are my niece. You are family. I should have treated you as my own. I should have shown you the love you deserve, but I was too selfish. I was too concerned about what everyone else thought. And for that…I am so very sorry.”

            Lucky’s anger melted away. Although she knew she had some right to be angry, at least, she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything of the sort towards the alpha. “I should hate you,” she said, “like you hated me.”

            Her aunt simply gave a nod. “I would not blame you if I did. I know it is too late to apologize, and for you to forgive me.”

            Lucky thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “It isn’t too late,” she said. “I don’t know if I can forgive you yet, for leaving me all alone. I think I will, though, in time. But only if you show this baby the love you should have shown me.”

            “I promise that I will,” her aunt said solemnly, and stepped towards the nest.

            Lucky stepped back a little to let the alpha get a better view of the infant, but remained close by.

            “Oh my, he is a unique little thing,” her aunt sighed, reaching out a paw to gently ruffle the long fur on the baby’s tiny head.

            “He’s perfect,” Lucky said, although she didn’t fully believe it herself. Knowing nothing but mistreatment and loathing in her short lifetime made her unable, for now, to see the baby as anything but ugly, just as she saw herself. Maybe someday that would change, though, and she had to start somewhere.

            “Yes,” her aunt said thoughtfully, examining the baby’s tiny, sharp claws. “Yes, I do believe he is.”

            Then, another thought came to Lucky’s mind. “He needs a name,” she said, because she had never had one.

            “He does,” agreed her aunt. She looked at Lucky, and said: “you should name him.”

            “Me?”

            “You saved his life,” her aunt pointed out. “You protected him from the bluebird. You saved him from death, or from a lifetime of isolation. It is only right that you should give him his name.”

            Lucky nodded, and gulped. A name was an important thing. What if she chose incorrectly? There were so many names: Vankir, for luck in the harvest, Yuki, for hopes of a bountiful life and a strong legacy. All traditional. He was not a traditional baby, though.

            She glanced around the clearing and found a small, four-leafed plant growing in the short grass. Plucking it with her nimble paw, she wove the stem into his long fur. “Clover,” she said.

            Her aunt looked surprised at first, then smiled. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Do you know how lucky you are, little one? A lucky clover. That has a nice ring to it.”

            Lucky agreed.

            “Well, we’d best get this little one back to camp. Night will be falling soon,” her aunt said.

            “I can’t go into camp,” Lucky mumbled, shaking her head. “The others will laugh at me. The babies will start to cry, and—”

            “You shall carry him.” Her aunt said. “And you shall have a den beside mine. If anyone questions you-” her eyes flickered with a mischief Lucky had never seen before, “you remind them that the niece of an alpha deserves their respect, and they shall have to talk with me if they have a problem! You are my family, after all!”

            Lucky felt a strange, warm feeling in her chest, and tears came to her eyes. What was this feeling? Belonging? Pride? She knew neither of them well. “Thank you, alpha,” she said.

            “Call me Merare,” said her aunt. “Family has no need for titles. Now, come! I have a new son to introduce to the tribe.”

            Lucky’s heart felt lighter than it ever had before. Very carefully, she scooped the baby up by the scruff of his neck, and followed her aunt through the grasses that led back to camp. Things wouldn’t change overnight, she knew that well enough, but for the first time in her life, she had hope.

            Little Clover squeaked as tall, soft grass tickled his nose.

            _You will be so loved, little one,_ she thought, _and I will teach you to pick berries, and find the prettiest shells. You will know belonging, and pride, and you will always be welcomed. I will keep you safe._

With that promise in her mind and heart, she walked into the camp for the first time in nearly a year. Her tribemates began to emerge from their dens, some gasping in shock as the hideous creature walked so brazenly among them. For the first time, she held her head high.

            “Everyone,” said her aunt Merare, her voice raised and proud. “This is my family.”

            Lucky felt her heart swell at the word.

            “My son, Clover, and my niece, Lucky. You will treat them with the respect you would afford me, and you will love them as your own family, for they are part of our tribe.”

            Discontented murmuring began near the edges of the camp, and Lucky glanced at her aunt fearfully. Would she go back on her word, hearing this response from her tribe?

            Her aunt merely stood taller though, drawing her lips back over her fangs. “If anyone has disagreements, please, speak them now!”

            “What had she ever done for the tribe?” growled a brazen young male.

            Her aunt looked unimpressed. “What have you done for the tribe, Nuktavan, other than lounge in the shade and flirt with the females, then pretend to be picking berries whenever I walk by? At least my niece is diligent in her work!”

            A few chuckles arose here and there as the young male flattened his ears against his head, embarrassed.

            “Anyone else?” asked the alpha.

            One of the females raised her snout haughtily, “she’s hideous, and she frightens my cubs.”

            “A mother should raise her cubs not to be cowards,” replied the alpha, “and if they cannot learn to accept a tribemate, that is a failure of your teaching, not her appearance!”

            “I told you your cubs were poorly behaved,” taunted another young mother.

The female growled, but then, remembering she was in the presence of the alpha, bowed her head. “Yes, alpha.”

            “Any other objections?” the alpha asked.

            At last, the group was silent.

            “Excellent. You may all return to your duties. I will see to it that my family is comfortable within our camp.”

            Although some of their tribemates still looked on with discontent, and others with shock, no one protested further. Lucky noticed that Takirkir and Anarera were nowhere to be found. Things would not be perfect, that was for sure, but already, they were better.

            Following her aunt to the center of camp she began to construct a den beside that of the alpha. Little Clover nestled up to her side as she worked.

            In time, it was like she’d always lived in camp. The children no longer recoiled when she came near, though that didn’t stop the occasional rude comment. Her tribemates did not treat her with open disdain anymore either. Some even found that they liked her, once they looked past her face.

            As the months went on, little Clover grew strong and energetic. It was all the alpha could do to keep an eye on him while also running the tribe. Still, she never wavered from her promise to love him. When he got to be too troublesome, Lucky took over to watch him for a while. He was a handful, that was for sure, but he was clever, and already spoke of defending his tribe when he was big and strong.

            Day by day, Lucky found herself loving life, and her family more. She smiled as she watched Clover pounce on a rolling ball of rabbil fluff. “That’s what I’m going to do to any bluebird that tries to snatch us up,” he told the newest members of the tribe, month-old twins who barely had their first gem. They cheered. “Pounce on it again, Clover!” one of them squeaked. “Yeah, teach that nasty bird who’s boss!” the other one said, digging tiny claws into the soft earth of the den.

            Lucky smiled.

            “Hey, Lucky!”

            It was one of the young males of the tribe, Duknu. He and a couple of their other tribemates were standing near the entrance to camp.

            “What?” she called, still keeping her eye on Clover.

            “Want to come pick berries with us? It just rained yesterday, so there should be a ton!”

            “Uh,” she looked worriedly at Clover. Would he be okay while she was away? What if one of the bigger children started to pick on him, or—

            She felt a paw touch her shoulder. Looking back, she saw her aunt Merare smiling serenely at her. “I’ll watch him. Go, have fun.”

            “Have fun picking berries?” she asked, chuckling.

            “Have fun _making friends_ ,” he aunt corrected her.

            Lucky rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Alright Merare, whatever you say.” She turned to Duknu and the others. “Yeah, I’m coming!” She hurried over to meet up with them.

            “Great! It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Duknu smiled, and Lucky felt her heart flutter.

            As they walked out of the camp, Lucky cast one more glance back at Clover and Merare. Her aunt was tossing the rabbil fluff, and Clover was catching it out of midair. She smiled.

            Things weren’t perfect, but they were pretty damn good.

            “Race you to the berry bushes,” Duknu said suddenly, and took off at a run.

            “Hey!” Lucky laughed. “This is unfair on so many levels!” she took off after him. The sound of their laughter filled the air, and the sun shone down on an island at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Lucky is based off many rogue-born children in my own playthroughs who were unexpected, but eventually loved very dearly <3
> 
> Clover has a bearyena snout because Anarera, his birth mother, has a recessive gene passed down from a long-forgotten ancestor (his birth father is not actually Takirkir, if the implication was not clear).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the story!


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